


it changes with the tide

by starknjarvis



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Time, Jim Kirk's self-worth issues, Lots of Sex, M/M, internalized slut shaming, miscommunications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknjarvis/pseuds/starknjarvis
Summary: Jim and Spock start having sex. That’s all it is. Just sex. A lot of people want to have sex with Jim.He shouldn’t be upset that it’s all Spock wants from him too.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 28
Kudos: 739





	it changes with the tide

Jim had fantasized often about the moment before it finally happened.

In his imagination, Jim finally had the nerve to make a serious move on his First Officer and lured the Vulcan into his bed with his standard debonair ease. Perhaps over chess one evening in Jim’s quarters, Jim would make a casual suggestion that they take their relationship to the next level. Spock would be stoic, but would flush that green that showed he was flustered. Jim would be confident and careful. Spock was a Vulcan, and immune to coercion—he would agree not because he felt he had to, but because his want overcame his propriety.

Spock would fall to pieces under Jim’s attentions, beautiful and desperate for his touch. He wasn’t a virgin—Jim was sure Nyota had taken care of that before their amicable break-up last year—but Spock was not confident interpersonally. It would be on Jim to make it the kind of romantic experience Spock would pretend not to want.

Spock would trust Jim, because that trust was at the heart of their friendship. It was what had kept them alive through alien terrains and space anomalies. Sex was just the next step.

There were a few flaws with that fantasy—mostly that Jim was sure he was reading far too much into their long stares and philosophical discussions—but it kept him warm when his pining got out of control.

What ended up happening was very different.

The mission had not gone well.

When the first contact team had been ambushed, Jim had handed himself over as hostage in order to convince the aliens to let his crew go. They had accepted his terms, and not been gentle with him in the aftermath. Jim had been rescued, in the end, but had emerged with a barrage of cuts and bruises.

Bones had sworn a blue streak at him while patching him up. It wasn’t unusual, and Bones had seen Jim through a lot worse over the years.

Spock, who had not been part of the first contact crew but had led the rescue mission, had not spoken to Jim at all since locating him.

Jim slunk out of the med bay, waving acknowledgement of Bones’s shouted orders to rest, and went to the gym. The rest of Alpha shift was asleep, but Jim knew he would not be able to calm down until he had worked himself to exhaustion. He set a brutal pace on the treadmill and forced himself not to imagine the other ways this day might have gone.

He lost track of time. There was no one else in the gym, so he did not need to ignore conversation or observation. There was only the pounding of his feet against the treadmill, his labored breathing, and the sweat soaking his shirt.

And then Spock walked into the gym. He walked to stand directly in front of the treadmill. His hands were clasped behind his back.

“What are you doing?”

“I know you have eyes, Spock,” Jim grunted, not pausing.

“And I know you are fully aware that the colloquialism is meant to incite an explanation as to your activities,” Spock returned. “I presume you must have some reasonable excuse that I am simply unable to see that this moment. Thus, the request for clarification.”

“Running,” Jim said.

“Doctor McCoy informed me that he instructed you to rest. The dermal regenerator was able to heal most of your wounds from the Jeseeks, but excessive activity threatens to exacerbate them again. I am curious, therefore, how you decided that coming to the gym was an acceptable alternative to the doctor’s advice.”

“I don’t take Bones’s advice on a good day. I’m not planning on starting tonight.”

“You often insist that the crew of this ship has to answer to the Chief Medical Officer. As captain, deliberating ignoring his orders sets a poor example for the rest of your crew, does it not?”

Jim slammed the button to pause the treadmill. “As captain,” Jim said, skidding to a stop and pointing at Spock, “I can do what I want.”

“Was that the reasoning that convinced you to hand yourself over to a group of hostiles yesterday? As much as the word ‘reason’ applies to such a decision. The Jeseeks were clearly not interested in a reasonable hostage negotiation.”

“It was me or the crew,” Jim said. “It’s on me to do what it takes to keep my people safe.”

“Fascinating. It seems you received a different set of orders from Command than the other Starfleet captains. I was under the impression that the duty of a captain was to lead their crew.”

Jim climbed off the treadmill, wincing as his aching body protested. How long had he been running? “Then what would you have done? You’re the one who always says it—the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“I was not present. Any suggestions I make would only be conjecture.” Before Jim could laugh in his face, he continued, “However, the crew that was on the planet with you seems to believe there may have been another option to be found if you had only consulted with them instead of flinging yourself at the Jeseeks. To a discerning eye, there seems to be a pattern of you volunteering for capture or injury, leaving your crew captainless while we determine the best course of rescue.”

“You didn’t have to come save me,” Jim spat.

Spock was silent for a moment, watching Jim with an unreadable expression. “The crew of this ship is admirably loyal to you. You are admirably loyal to them. Those two facts are often at odds. You seem eager to die for them, and they are entirely unwilling to let you.”

“And what about you?” Jim challenged. “Are you saying you wanted to leave me down there?”

“Am I not a member of this crew?”

Jim faltered.

“Your crew wants you to continue to lead them until you reach a healthy retirement age—preferably sixty years old, though I expect you would hold on until at least seventy, barring injury. Your constant insistence of putting yourself in the path of bodily harm directly threatens that—as does your subsequent refusal to listen to your own Chief Medical Officer.”

“I can’t relax. Okay? I’m so wired that if I try to lay down, I’ll just stare at the ceiling for the next five hours. I can’t do that tonight.”

“The doctor has sleep aids.”

“So did the Jeseeks.” Jim had been beaten before, but there was something even more nauseating about being drugged first. The fuzziness, the helplessness. As though being taken hostage and beaten up weren’t vulnerable enough already.

“So you need to drain your energy through activity, even though that activity may slow your healing,” Spock said.

Jim shrugged. “Not all of us can meditate.”

“Humans are perfectly capable of meditating. It may not be as effective as for Vulcans, but it is entirely possible with enough training.”

“Whatever,” Jim said, and turned back to the treadmill.

“Spar with me.”

“What?”

“You need an activity to expel excess energy. I find I am also in the same predicament.”

Jim laughed. “You think Bones would be mad about me running on the treadmill, but not about letting you stab me?”

“We’ll fight without weapons,” Spock said. “You are not prepared to handle a weapon in your state.”

“Fine,” Jim said, stalking over the mat. He tore off his sweat-soaked shirt and tossed it to the side. He had learned early on that it was best to give Spock the least amount possible to hold onto when they grappled.

Spock strolled onto the mat as though he were entering his labs, his shoulders loose but his eyes intent. Jim bounced on his heels. This was what he needed. He exchange some punches, fight dirty, feel the skin of his First Officer, and finally—finally—settle.

It took approximately four seconds for Spock to lock Jim in an unbreakable hold.

“Let me go,” Jim insisted. He was facedown on the floor, pinned completely.

“You agreed to spar,” Spock pointed out. He wasn’t even remotely out of breath.

“This isn’t fucking helping,” Jim growled.

“I believe it’s helping us both. You can exert all the energy you want without hurting yourself, and I have the satisfaction of knowing precisely where you are.”

Jim growled under his breath, and Spock, to his surprise, matched the noise in his ear.

“If you’re not going to help me, at least let me go back to the treadmill,” Jim said, and bucked against Spock’s grip. He winced when he jarred his injured shoulder.

“Stay still,” Spock instructed.

“Why do you care?” Jim demanded, panting and staring at the mat directly below his eyes. “Just let me do what I need to do. It’s none of your business if I fucking run myself into my grave.”

“Why do I care?” Spock repeated.

He flipped Jim with as much speed as carefulness, leaving him pinned on his back but still immobile. Stunned, Jim stared up at the Vulcan straddling him. Spock’s eyes were dark and intent.

“Why do I care?” Spock repeated again, voice softer.

And then, his mouth was on Jim’s. It was an intense kiss, and Jim met it with blind fervor. He didn’t know what the _fuck_ was happening, but Spock’s tongue was licking into his mouth and he wasn’t going to complain.

Spock did not let Jim up from the pin. He was firmly held on the mat, still except for the kiss. It was a heady sensation. Jim had never been much for being tied up, but with Spock’s hands holding him in place, he liked it very much.

It was something about Spock. He had seen his crewmate use his deliberate competence to tackle endless issues, and having that dedication applied to pleasuring Jim was heady.

“You have energy to release,” Spock murmured against Jim’s ear.

Jim tried to buck his hips—with a much different aim than before—but he was still held fast. “Yes,” he panted.

“Stay still,” Spock instructed again, and then released his hands.

Jim whined, but obeyed.

Spock gave him a small smirk, and then slid down his body. He raised an eyebrow at Jim, and then tugged down his exercise pants.

The sight of Spock in the middle of the gym, exposing Jim’s hardening cock to the bright lights, nearly undid him. Jim tried to sit up to watch, but a bruise in his stomach protested and he dropped his head back to the mat. “I want to see you,” Jim complained.

“Another time,” Spock said, and then his mouth was on Jim.

He sucked on the tip of Jim’s cock, and stroked the rest with the focus and finesse he used in the lab. His grip flirted with being too firm, but it was just what Jim needed. He had been looking for oblivion on the treadmill, a punishment that would numb him. This was anything but numbing, but oblivion seemed on the horizon.

Jim desperately wanted to put his hands in Spock’s perfect hair and muss it up, but he left his hands where Spock had instructed.

“You’re doing well,” Spock commented, taking his mouth from Jim’s cock and staring at him. His lips were slick. His hand continued uninterrupted. “I calculated a twelve-percent chance that you would not listen to instructions.”

Jesus. The thought of Spock calculating how jumping Jim’s bones in the gym would go was heady. Was there a PADD somewhere on the ship with Spock’s calculations and contingencies, or was it just a sign of the speed of Spock’s mind?

“God forbid I—ah—interrupt your plan,” Jim panted.

“That is optimal,” Spock said, and returned to the work of sucking Jim off.

Jim pressed his head back against the mat and let the sensations rush over him.

He wanted to hold out—God, did he want this to last—but he was already strung tight after the mission, and Spock was playing him like a fiddle. With Jim keeping his hands over his head and one of Spock’s hands steadily stopping his hips from rocking at all, the control had been taken from him. He was the captain of the Enterprise, the youngest in Starfleet history. He shouldn’t have wanted Spock to take over and run the show.

But for the first time in day—months—Jim had no responsibility except to do what Spock said.

So when Spock lifted his head and murmured, “Come for me,” Jim did.

Spock’s hand on Jim’s hip stopping him from bucking, and when he came down from the blissful high, he found that Spock had caught his come in a washcloth.

“You _did_ have a plan,” Jim said.

“We’re in the ship gym,” Spock pointed out. “It would be irresponsible not to keep it clean.”

“My bare ass is on the mat,” Jim reminded him.

“We’ll also sanitize it after,” Spock said.

Jim groaned, but the noise cut off when Spock stood up and pulled off his own pants. The silky black pants had done nothing to hide his erection, but seeing it in the light was incomparable. He was flushed green. If any part of Jim had worried that Spock wasn’t invested in this, his hard length put those fears to rest.

“Yes,” Jim said.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t asked a question.”

“I don’t care,” Jim said. “If it involves that and me, the answer is yes.”

Spock stepped over him, and then kneeled over his head. His cock was tantalizingly close to Jim’s mouth. “Remain still. I will not be responsible for you overexerting yourself.”

“Right, right,” Jim said, and left his mouth open invitingly.

“You want this,” Spock noted, not sounding surprised.

Jim didn’t waste time answering. As soon as Spock was close enough, Jim lifted his head to taste him.

A hand clasped in his hair and firmly pushed him back against the mat. Jim groaned, but let Spock manhandle him. It was hotter than sin, frankly, even if Jim would have rather shown Spock what a good decision he was making. Jim’s mouth had serviced so much genitalia that he was probably more of an expert on that part of xenobiology than Bones. He could show Spock how _good_ Jim was.

Spock didn’t give him the chance. He fucked Jim’s mouth with the same skill he had used on Jim’s cock. His thrusts were shallow, giving Jim a taste of him without overwhelming him. Jim wanted to be overwhelmed. He wanted to drown in Spock until there was no world left beyond them.

But Spock was in control tonight.

Jim moaned around Spock’s cock, using his tongue as much as he could in time with Spock’s pumping hips. He would make this good, damn it. He needed Spock’s come in his mouth in the next minute or he would lose his mind.

Spock made a guttural noise and pulled out of Jim’s mouth. Jim whined. One hand keeping Jim pinned to the mat, Spock used the other to stroke himself fiercely. Finally, with a shudder, he came on Jim’s chest.

He finally let go of Jim’s hair and sat back, looking at the mess on Jim’s chest with satisfaction.

Jim lifted his head to inspect himself. Spock had, impressively, managed not to get a single drop on the mat below them.

“Thought I wasn’t prepared to handle a weapon tonight,” Jim mocked, leaning back and stretching out. His jaw was slightly sore, but he felt so sated he thought his muscles might melt through the floor.

Spock just smirked. “I believe I was the one doing the handling.”

Jim ran a hand lazily through the come on his chest. Spock tracked the movement with dark eyes. “Not that I’m complaining,” Jim said, “but you could have come down my throat. If you didn’t notice, I was practically begging for it.”

“I noticed. However, I knew you were unaware that I lose control of my mental shields when I climax,” Spock said. “That seemed a conversation better had at another moment.”

“So, that means…?”

“It means I would be unable to prevent the transference of thought through skin,” Spock said. “The transference in both directions. I believed you would prefer to avoid that.”

Right. Jim had never really wanted to know what the people he slept with were thinking. It was kind of Spock to spare Jim from whatever thoughts he thought Jim would find mood-killing. He imagined that even in the middle of an orgasm, Spock wouldn’t be able to turn off his logic brain.

“Ha, yeah, let’s avoid that,” Jim agreed with a smile.

Spock walked Jim back to his room and seemed smug at the door when Jim said he was going straight to bed. Spock had used sex to make Jim compliant, and he wanted to be angry about it. Spock clearly wanted to keep emotions out of it. But fuck, it was the best sex of his life, and there hadn’t even been penetration. 

And, damn the Vulcan, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

#

Jim was used to one-night stands.

They were the backbone of his life before Starfleet, and had become even more necessary after he joined. There were ethical issues with sleeping with most of the crew—as much as dumb young lieutenants fantasized about becoming captain and bedding their entire crews, it was a gross imbalance of power. Instead, Jim found people to have a night with while on shore leave. Jim found people who were intrigued by his humanity or swayed by his smiles, and passed over the ones who seemed awed by his position. He was looking for fun, not hero worship.

There was nothing wrong with a one-night stand between two consenting adults.

It just…wasn’t what Jim had expected from Spock.

Still, the finale last night had made Spock’s stance very clear. He didn’t want emotional transference. He didn’t want _emotions_. He wanted a quick fuck in the gym before sleeping in their separate quarters.

They hadn’t even cuddled.

It was a good thing Spock hadn’t read Jim’s thoughts—if he’d realized that Jim was infatuated, he would have regretted initiating the sex. Jim had been the recipient of unwanted intensity more than once. For a Vulcan like Spock, with perfect control over his feelings, Jim’s love would probably seem disgraceful.

Spock had just wanted sex. What else had Jim expected? It was no wonder Spock had expected Jim to want something with no strings. What else could come out of being the Fleet’s most notorious flirt for years?

Jim could do this. He could act normal. He would _not_ lose his best friend and First Officer over this.

In the mess, he pasted on a broad smile and sat down across from Spock for breakfast. Spock, drinking tea and looking utterly impassive, nodded to him. “Did you sleep a standard amount?” he asked.

“A whole six hours,” Jim reported, taking a bite of eggs. “Thanks for checking in, _Bones_.”

“I do not need to be your doctor to inquire after your rest,” Spock said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim said, waving his slice of toast before taking a bite.

“I was, after all, involved in the attempt to tire you sufficiently,” Spock said. Jim choked on his toast, and Spock raised a smug eyebrow. “I believe my interest is only reasonable.”

“Uh.” Jim hadn’t thought they were going to _talk_ about it. “Thanks?”

Spock went back to his tea, still entirely unaffected, and Jim choked down his breakfast to pretend he had any semblance of control.

#

Though their shift and meals were entirely, astounding normal, Jim was surprised when Spock turned up at his door that night after dinner.

He clearly didn’t hide his reaction, because Spock raised an eyebrow. “We traditionally play chess on Thursdays,” Spock reminded him. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he looked as crisp and stoic as the first day they’d met.

God, Jim loved him. He always had, but now, knowing the taste of Spock’s kiss (and cock), the emotions threatened to drown him.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jim said, stepping aside to let Spock in. “I lost track of the day.”

Spock went to the small table and sat in his usual seat.

He had been stiff and awkward during the first months visiting Jim’s quarters. Jim hadn’t noticed when that had changed. Spock moved around Jim like he was comfortable here, like he was so certain in his welcome that even Jim’s stilted reactions would not scare him away.

Jim needed to get a handle on himself before that changed.

“Want some tea?” he asked loudly, going over to the replicator. “I’m in the mood for a cup of coffee. Decaf for both, before you start on me.”

“Tea would be appreciated,” Spock said.

Jim waited for the drinks, using the moment with his face turned away to lecture himself soundly. _Normal_. Spock was worth it. Jim wasn’t a Vulcan, but he also wasn’t an animal—he could keep a hold of his emotions.

It had been a long time since Jim had felt like he was wearing a mask around Spock, but it wasn’t difficult to find. Jim had spent his whole life being what people wanted him to be.

He brought the drinks back to Spock and launched into an anecdote about Scotty.

As they played and Jim talked, Spock watched Jim with quiet attention. Was he staring at Jim’s lips because he was talking, or because he was remembering last night? His expression was difficult to read. He always seemed to listen to every word Jim said, no matter how inane. He remembered them too, bringing up stories Jim had slipped into conversations years before as though he had a file on Jim in his head.

Jim focused very hard on keeping their conversation light and normal—and focused very little on the game.

“You have me,” Jim sighed, tipping over his king.

“You’re distracted,” Spock said.

Jim hummed, starting to reset the board.

“Are you planning to initiate sex tonight?”

A pawn fell from Jim’s fingers.

“As I established my interest last night, I anticipated that you would attempt to use tonight to attempt to regain control over the situation,” Spock continued. “As you have only acted as normal, I am faced with two other possibilities: you are not interested in another encounter of the same type, or you prefer—in this case—to be seduced. If it is the former, we may return to our match, as long as you confirm last night did not…disturb you. I have attempted to learn human body language, but am aware that I am prone to error in this—”

“Hey,” Jim said, holding out his hand. “I liked last night. I _really_ liked last night.”

“So then…”

“I’m interested, Spock. I’m interested in whatever you want to give me.”

“Then it is the second scenario,” Spock purred. “I have seen you woo many people, Captain.”

“Jim.”

“I suppose that, perhaps, you also appreciate knowing you are the desired party. Would it help, then, if I mention that you are above-standard in male Terran beauty?”

“You really know how to seduce a guy, Spock,” Jim said, shaking his head.

“Your eyes are thirty percent more dilated than they were before I began this thread of conversation,” Spock said. He sat across from Jim, examining his face like it was a chessboard. “I would posit it is working. But perhaps many have commented on your attractiveness in the abstract. What if I say that I thought of the sound of your moans nearly every half-hour today, even while I was working? Or that you beneath me was the most stunning vision I have ever seen? I have techniques to ensure that a memory is preserved. Meditation and focus to thoroughly internalize a moment. I did so with every second of our union last night.”

“Holy shit,” Jim said. “You are good at this.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I enjoyed being inside your mouth, but I have been envisioning anal intercourse with you for some time now, and have theories I would like to test.”

Jim was nodding before Spock finished his sentence. “Bed now. Please.”

A smirk curled at the edge of Spock’s lips. He stood up gracefully. When Jim joined him, less gracefully, Spock put a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him.

The kiss was searing, but when Spock slid his lips to nibble the round shell of Jim’s ear, he murmured, “I feared I had misstepped.”

“Never,” Jim promised.

Spock pulled him to the bed and ushered him on. “Undress.” Jim did quickly, grateful for his casual evening clothes, as Spock opened the bedside table and pulled out the bottle of lube and a condom.

“This isn’t even your bedroom,” Jim grumbled, propping up on his elbows. Spock, as anticipated, took the moment to appreciate Jim’s nudity.

“I anticipated the likelihood of you keeping supplies within arm’s reach of your bed to be in the ninetieth percentile,” Spock said. He unclasped his shirt and folded it before setting it nearly on the bedside table. “You do not bring partners back onto the ship, but nor do you have sex with the rest of the crew. You have not exhibited the tension I would expect of someone denying themselves orgasm for weeks or months of travel.” His pants followed suit. “Ergo, you have a source of satisfaction close to hand.”

“You seem to think about me and sex a lot,” Jim commented.

“I have always dedicated mental space to interesting topics,” Spock said. “I have found this one in particular provides much…stimulation.”

The idea of Spock touching himself to the thought of _Jim_ touching himself was overwhelming. “Fuck me,” Jim instructed. “Right now. Leave the condom off. I want to feel you.”

“Jim,” Spock scolded.

“You think Bones would let either of us walk around the ship with a communicable disease? He’s cured me of enough to fill an encyclopedia.”

Spock was suddenly on him, palms on either side of Jim’s head and staring down at him. His skin was hot to the touch, and felt wonderful pressed against all of Jim. “Don’t think of them when you’re with me,” he instructed.

As though Jim had room to think of anything else when Spock was this close. “Just you,” Jim promised.

Spock kissed him like he was trying to erase every other kiss from Jim’s memory. Jim kissed back for all he was worth.

After last night’s whirlwind, Jim expected a similar experience tonight, but after melting his brain with the kiss, Spock took his damn sweet time opening Jim up. Those long fingers were clever, and his mouth stayed busy laving against Jim’s skin in a hunt for his sensitive spots. His lips lingered on Jim’s hands as though unable to draw himself away.

By the time he pushed inside, Jim was practically writhing. “Damn it, Spock,” he panted.

Spock fucked like clockwork. It shouldn’t have been so arousing, but there was no escaping the building thrusts. No matter how much Jim pleaded, Spock did not speed up until he chose to. He seemed to enjoy Jim’s pleading, though. His eyes were dark, and he nipped at Jim’s jaw.

In the end, Jim came like fireworks under Spock’s steady rhythm. He panted, pleasure pulsing through his body.

When the last aftershock began to fade, Spock pulled out.

“You don’t have to…” Jim started, voice slow and sticky.

It was too late.

Spock held himself carefully aloft, not so much as a leg brushing Jim’s skin. He came on Jim’s stomach, his spend mingling with Jim’s. It should have been satisfying to see Spock losing control, to see that he was just as messy and mortal, but his afterglow had soured in his chest.

He stared up at the ceiling. His mind, sluggish and satisfied only moments before, was whirring.

Spock could fuck Jim into the mattress, but refused to allow Jim near his mind. What thought was he hiding from Jim?

Jim tried to push that thought away. Maybe Spock just didn’t like the idea of Jim’s emotions infecting him. To a Vulcan, they would be unreasonably chaotic. But Spock had worked with humans for decades now. Surely there was nothing Jim could think that could surprise Spock.

There must have been something inside Spock’s mind that he didn’t want Jim to see. Jim could only imagine what would make Spock—socially inept Spock—shy away from his usual method of complete honesty. There was little delicacy in his First Officer. It would have to be something he thought would change their relationship, both personally and professionally. Maybe even he had learned somewhere not to insult a person you wanted to keep putting out.

“I anticipate you will sleep well again tonight,” Spock prompted.

“Yeah,” Jim said, looking away from the ceiling to find Spock with his folded clothes in hand at the edge of the bed. He, of course, didn’t have a single drop of come on his skin. It was all on Jim.

It had been a long time since Jim had felt dirty—inside and out—after sex.

Spock waited another moment, and then left without another word.

#

“Okay, Jim,” Bones said, visibly bracing himself. “What’s this about?”

“We haven’t broken out the Romulan ale in too long,” Jim said, waving his shot glass. “Who says there needs to be a reason?” They had already had a drink each, and the alcohol had slammed into his stomach like lava. The warmth spreading out to his fingers would have been more comforting if it hadn’t reminded him of Spock’s weight on top of him.

“Because we’ve been friends for a long time and I know you,” Bones said. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“The kind that means I’m about to have to drag your ass out of a bar before you get both our asses beat,” Bones said. “The kind where you’re thinking about making a decision you know is dumb as shit.”

“All my decisions are dumb as shit,” Jim pointed out.

Bones snorted. “A lot of them are, but you’re a goddamn Starfleet captain these days. It’s my job as your CMO to make sure whatever’s happening in that head of yours isn’t about to start an intergalactic incident. So take another drink and let’s do this.”

Jim took the drink. “Me and Spock are having sex.”

Bones, who had been flushed from the ale, went instantly pale. “Lord. This is not the conversation I was looking for.” He took a quick shot, though it didn’t seem to help.”

“Me and Spock are having amazing sex, and I think I’m going to have to turn him down,” Jim said.

“Listen, I _do not want_ to hear about the details,” Bones said, “but that’s probably the dumbass decision I saw lurking in your eyes. You know the pointy-eared bastard drives me crazy, but he’s the most stabilizing influence you’ve had in… well, maybe your whole life. God knows I was never able to get through your thick skull. Don’t blow this up just because you’re afraid of commitment.”

“You have it wrong,” Jim said, rubbing a finger over the lip of the glass. “I’m not the one who’s afraid of commitment.”

“What?”

“I mean Spock’s using me as a damn fuckbuddy, and it’s driving me crazy. Fuckbuddies are an unappreciated form of friendship. Me and Gaila were great fuckbuddies. You know?” Jim put his forehead on the table, unable to hold up his head any longer. “Spock is the only person I’ve ever slept with that I was in love with, and he doesn’t love me back.”

“You… He…” Bones sighed heavily. “You know this sounds crazy, right?”

“I’m living it,” Jim pointed out, face mashed against the table.

“You think _Spock_ is using you for sex,” Bones said. “Has he ever done anything less than completely seriously in his life?”

“If he wanted anything more than sex, wouldn’t it be logical to _say_ something?” Jim asked. “He knows me. Who would expect local slut James T. Kirk to want anything but sex?”

“Hey, cut that out,” Bones snapped. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.”

“You’ve called me a slut before,” Jim pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s fucking different when I say it,” Bones said.

“Why is it different?”

“Because I say mean shit about you because I love you. You say mean shit about you because you hate you.”

“You’re an incoherent drunk.”

“Shut up. Anyway, I think you’re wrong. Spock is smarter than to get into something like this with his Captain without having a plan of action. He’s not like the other people you’ve taken to bed. You need to talk to him with your big-boy words.”

“You suck,” Jim said.

“Look, Jim, which one of us has been married—and messily divorced? Trust me on this one. Sometimes you actually have to talk. You need to know. If that’s really what Spock thinks, I’m going to give him hives until we get his ass transferred off his ship.”

“He’s the best First Officer in Starfleet, and my friend,” Jim said. “I’m not getting rid of him just because he doesn’t want to date me. I’m not a monster.”

“I’m your best friend. I can be monster enough for the both of us.” He took Jim’s glass and poured another full shot in. “Now we’re going to get plastered, and neither of us is going to mention ‘Spock’ and ‘sex’ again in the same sentence for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s _really good sex_ , Bones,” Jim said.

Bones took his own shot. “Seriously, Jim. Not another word,” he warned.

#

Jim wished all first contact went this smoothly.

The Shandrians greeted them with reasonable caution, listened to Jim’s spiel about the Federation, and then welcomed them to the planet. Starfleet’s technology had some advantages to their own, which their king clearly realized, though they were well on their way on their own.

Spock stood close by Jim’s side once they landed. Had they always stood so close together? Now, knowing what Spock tasted like all over, it was extremely distracting.

He had not followed Bones’s suggestion to talk to Spock. He didn’t want to know Spock’s answer. If it went the way he thought it might, he could lose a friend—and some of the best sex of his life.

Instead, he kept drawing Spock into his quarters, letting him fuck Jim’s brains out, and waving goodbye as Spock collected his clothes and retreated to meditate. It was fine.

“Are you all right, Captain Kirk?”

Jim looked up and smiled reflexively. “Sure am,” he said.

They were at a feast to celebrate the newly-cemented alliance, and Jim had been brooding over the remains of his meal. He was sitting beside the king’s daughter, Princess Shrang, with Spock beside him and the king on her other side. Every culture had their own secret rituals behind seating arrangements—at this point, Jim just sat where people told him.

The princess smiled prettily. They were an interesting race, the Shandrians. Their skin was black as space, with teeth and hair an unmarred white. “You seemed distracted. I hope the meal was to your liking.”

“It was delicious.” He had gotten used to not recognizing any of his food. Once Bones had scanned it to confirm it was all edible for humans and Vulcans—and wouldn’t cause anaphylactic shock in Jim specifically—he had dug in. “Compliments to your chefs. It’s been a pleasure to learn Shandrian culture this way.”

“Someday, I’d like to try human food,” she said. “I imagine it’s wonderful.”

“It is,” Jim agreed. “As trade opens here, I’m sure you’ll have a chance.”

“I’d also like to try a human,” she said.

Jim’s smile stayed perfectly in place. She wasn’t aggressive, and Jim was not prepared to lose this treaty so quickly. “I’m sorry to tell you that we don’t allow the consumption of any sentient beings, whether they are members of the Federation or not.”

She laughed. “I didn’t mean as food. I meant sexually.”

“Oh,” Jim said.

“You should ask one of the guards to show you to my room later tonight,” she said. She stood up and leaned over his hair. Her white hair brushed against his shoulder as she murmured into his ear. “I do hope you will. I believe you could explore more pleasurable Shandrian culture with me.” She straightened with a smile, and strode away.

Her empty seat left Jim with a clear view of the king, who had obviously overheard. He just gave Jim a bright grin. “My daughter is always eager for new experiences,” he said fondly.

“Admirable,” Jim said.

#

When the knock came at Jim’s door later that night, he took a moment to hope he had not misinterpreted the king’s comment. He was full and tired, and had no interest in trying to dodge an execution tonight.

Spock was standing at the door, hands clasped behind his back and perfectly put-together despite the late hour. “May I come in?” he asked before Jim could say hello.

“’Course,” Jim said. He glanced into the hall, but the guards at the end of the corridor were impassive. He closed and locked the door, and turned to find Spock standing stiffly in the center of his room. “What’s wrong?”

To someone else, Spock might have seemed impassive, but there was tension in every line of his body. Had he noticed something wrong with the Shandrians? Uncovered a trap? Perhaps the guards were only biding their time to take Jim away.

“I would like to request sexual exclusivity.”

“ _What_?” Jim asked.

“I understand we have not discussed this before, though it is standard among sexual partners,” Spock said. “It was made clear to me tonight that a conversation was in order.”

“O…kay,” Jim said.

Spock stayed tense. “Vulcans can be quite…possessive. I am capable of controlling it, as I am all my emotions—”

“Of course,” Jim muttered.

“But I would prefer not to. I have calculated that I would have difficulty performing optimally if you were also with others.”

“Perform…sexually?”

“No,” Spock said. He sighed just a bit, which showed how unbalanced he truly was. “My performance on the ship and during missions. I’m aware that I should not need this accommodation, and it may infringe on your plans, but my mind is…troubled imagining you with someone else. So I am making this request.”

Infringe on Jim’s plans. As though he’d planned on sleeping with the Shandrian princess tonight. Spock truly thought that he would have sex with Spock every night for a month and then turn around and fuck a complete stranger. “We’re just having sex,” Jim reminded him.

“I know,” Spock said, and it was like a dagger to Jim’s heart. “I am still requesting this exception.”

“Fine. Now fuck off.”

“Fine?”

“It’s a human term for accepting your conditions,” Jim snapped. “Now I need to get some sleep. We have final negotiations tomorrow. Or did you think that I was so led by my dick that I wouldn’t be able to focus on the goal during a first contact situation?”

“I respect you greatly as a captain,” Spock said.

But not as a person. “Cool. Out.”

Spock searched his face, and then nodded. He left, and Jim carefully did not to slam the door behind him. He pressed his forehead against the door, breathing heavily through his nose. This was _fine_.

#

The rest of the negotiations went smoothly—it seemed the Shandrians took rejection well—and the Enterprise took off a few days later.

Back on the ship, Spock was carefully polite around Jim. Jim hadn’t realized how relaxed they had gotten around each other until Spock reverted back to his stiff, formal demeanor. There was no more accidental hand-touching. Spock stood a foot away from him when they spoke, and the distance seemed like a gulf. He was careful with his comments, weighing each word as though Jim were scoring him. They no longer talked about sex. Their chess matches felt formal and scripted, like they were strangers.

This had been what Jim had feared from the start.

Maybe it was for the best. They would stop having sex. Their friendship would go back to normal over time. They were too close as friends for this blip to cause long-term damage. If they stopped sleeping together, they could go back to the way things were.

Spock was too important for Jim to lose.

Not even the best sex in the world could make Jim risk that.

#

A week later, Jim went to Spock’s door. Spock had already come and gone after their chess match more than an hour ago, but Jim was crawling out of his skin.

Spock opened the door quickly. He had changed into a simple black robe, but seemed alert despite the late hour. Jim stared at him. How had he never seen Spock in his casual clothes? Did he wear a robe every night? It was oddly intimate, though it covered as much skin as his uniform—and Jim had seen him naked plenty of times.

The room was dark beyond him. Incense was heavy in the air, and candlelight flickered against the walls.

“Did I forget something?” Spock prompted.

“I didn’t want to stop,” Jim blurted.

Spock held back. “I believe our match had ended.”

“Not the chess,” Jim said.

“I…believed you to be angry with me. I thought it best to allow you to initiate any further intercourse.”

“Consider it initiated.”

For a beat, Spock looked at him, reading his expression like a data screen.

Then, Spock grabbed his collar and dragged him inside. The doors hissed closed, and Spock shoved him back up against the metal. He used his grip on Jim’s shirt to jerk down the fabric and clamp his teeth at the base of Jim’s neck.

Jim whined. “Fuck.” He had _missed_ this.

Spock bit his way up to Jim’s ear. “You did not indicate you were still interested.”

“Just assume I’m, ah, always interested,” Jim said.

Spock maneuvered Jim across the room and pushed him down on the mat in the corner. He hovered over Jim, eyes locked on the edge of Jim’s jaw. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again.

Jim raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin. “You want to give me a mark where you can see it tomorrow?” he offered.

“You’re the captain of the ship,” Spock said, but his expression was hungry.

“Everyone already knows I’m a slut, don’t they?” Jim’s tone was possibly more catty than seductive.

Spock pulled his eyes away to meet Jim’s. “You are respected no matter who you sleep with. Everyone on this ship owes you their life.” He hesitated. “My request, it was not meant to be censure on—”

“Then mark me up,” Jim interrupted. “I need it.”

Spock did not wait for another invitation. He descended and bit at the line between Jim’s jaw and neck. His teeth were sharp, unrelenting, but the drag of his tongue was slow and aching. He lingered on the same spot, pulling a bruise to the surface with steady determination.

He lifted and examined his handiwork, as smug as Jim had ever seen him.

“You weren’t kidding about being possessive,” Jim gasped.

“I never kid,” Spock said, and kissed Jim’s lips.

Though they had only ever had sex in Jim’s quarters, Spock pulled a container of lube from beside his mat. Had he gotten it for Jim—or did he use it on himself? Jim couldn’t decide which scenario was hotter. He stretched Jim with quick efficiency, and then pushed inside.

Jim groaned and pressed back against the mat. Spock gave the side of Jim’s neck another nip, and started thrusting in and out.

“God, I missed this,” Jim admitted. “You feel so good.”

Spock paused deep inside of him. He murmured against Jim’s ear, “I feared I had frightened you away. I am aware humans are not always open to…intensity.”

Jim felt like he was choking. He had dreamed of this all week, and Spock could not keep his damn mouth shut for five minutes. He was the one who would not let Jim see into his thoughts—there was no reason to remind Jim again that he thought he was a slut.

Jim rocked his hips to force Spock to keep moving. “Humans or just me?” he demanded, even as he ran his nails down Spock’s back. “Say what you’re really thinking, Spock.”

Spock pulled back to look into Jim’s eyes. “I am not sure how much clearer I can possibly be that I hold you in the highest regard,” he said, fucking into Jim as though to emphasize his point.

That was it. This was going to drive him crazy.

He couldn’t resist this pull to Spock. He just needed to see the truth. Otherwise, he would keep coming to Spock’s doorstep, desperate for something Spock was never going to give him.

“Come in me,” Jim blurted.

“I have told you, the emotional transference—”

“Please,” Jim said.

Spock was unreadable, even as he kept fucking Jim. “This isn’t what you want.”

“It is. I need to see, Spock. Let me.”

Spock stared at him, eyes slightly wild, and then nodded once. He leaned forward to kiss Jim’s neck, a gentle brush over the hickey, and then tucked his head against Jim’s shoulder as he fucked him.

Anxiety pulsed in his stomach, but Spock was hitting the perfect spot inside of him and the oncoming orgasm was undeniable. Jim slipped a hand between them to jerk himself off, and the touch was electric.

“Jim,” Spock murmured against his skin.

Jim wished he could see Spock’s face. He was about to see much more. “Spock,” he said. More words failed him, but it did not matter.

Spock’s orgasm hit Jim like a breaking wave. First, his pleasure intensified threefold as a feedback loop appeared. Jim was fucking and being fucked at once, surrounded by skin and heat. He was coming too, the pleasure spearing through his body.

Then, the emotions poured through Jim. Though the feelings were recognizable, they were somehow distinct and mixed inside him, like oil swirling through water.

He understood the rush of love swelling inside him—he felt its echo in his own heart—but this feeling tasted of Spock. It was a fierce devotion, an impossible tenderness, a constant awe. Inside that overwhelming sensation were sparks of other thoughts: concern, fear, loneliness, yearning. They were uncomfortable pinpricks, but nothing compared to the rush of warmth.

When Jim regained awareness of the world, Spock was lying beside him. They were only connected through Spock’s hand on his own. There were still faint echoes of feeling through Spock’s skin, but it was muted as though coming from another room.

“What,” Jim panted, “the fuck was that?”

“I did tell you it would be an overwhelm—”

“You _like_ me,” Jim said. He pressed a hand to his heart, remembering that flood of love. He had never imagined those feelings lurking beneath Spock’s calm expression.

He had never imagined anyone feeling that way for _him_.

“Jim,” Spock said, scolding. “Of course I ‘like’ you.”

“You wouldn’t let me see,” Jim said, staring at the ceiling and reeling. “I thought there was a reason.”

“As I said, humans can fear the intensity of Vulcan emotion,” Spock said. “As I said before, I feared overwhelming you. I did not want to ask for more than you wanted to give. I did not want you to leave because I could not control myself.” There was a moment of quiet. “The turmoil in your mind. The doubt. You truly believed I did not value you?”

“You know I sleep around,” Jim said. “It’s fun. I like it. But you were acting like… like you didn’t need to do anything but fuck me and then leave. I thought that was all you wanted.”

“I have no judgements about your previous partners,” Spock said. “You are a tactile person. I have only ever wished for you to find joy, whether with me or another.”

“Then why…?”

“The strength of my emotions unsettles me. I believed you would find the sensation overwhelming. And I was not certain… I was uncertain whether you would reciprocate.”

Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows to meet Spock’s eyes. “You could see in me too, though, couldn’t you? You know how I feel.”

“I do,” Spock murmured, staring at Jim like he was a miracle. “There’s a constellation inside your mind, Jim. You feel so much, so strongly.” A frown touched his lips. “Doubt covers it all like a fog. I did not realize I was causing you such turmoil in my silence. Even if you did not know the depth of my emotions, I thought you understood my motivations.”

“You never said anything,” Jim said.

“Nor did you,” Spock said.

“Mature,” Jim scoffed.

Spock reached out to run a finger down the side of Jim’s jaw. Another pulse of adoration shot through him, laced with more concern than before. “You hide doubt behind your smiles.”

“They don’t get captaincies to people who can’t fake it ‘til they make it,” Jim pointed out. “Leaders have to be confident. It keeps the crew level.”

“This,” Spock said, brushing a thumb over the mark he’d left on Jim’s neck, “is not a matter of crew security.”

“I know,” Jim said quietly.

“I do not want you to doubt my sincerity when I say—I love you, Jim Kirk.”

Jim’s breath caught. He had seen as much in Spock’s mind, but the words felt revolutionary. “I love you too,” Jim said. “I have for a long time.”

“My t’hy’la,” Spock said.

“This isn’t how I thought tonight would go,” Jim admitted.

“I loathe to have caused you pain. I will not hide from you again,” Spock said. “I do not wish to flood you with my mind. I am aware the Vulcan bonds can alarm humans. But I would give you any access to ease your worrying.”

“You’re not going to scare me off,” Jim promised. “You couldn’t. I want anything you’re willing to give me.” He lifted up to kiss Spock quickly, and then winked. “I mean _anything_.”

“You will not distract me with flirting,” Spock said, but his eyes flicked down to Jim’s lips.

“I can try,” Jim said. “You don’t need to apologize. I mean it. I want every emotion you want to throw at me. And if it’s too much to share, it can be for special occasions. Just… let me see behind that mask of yours every once in a while.”

“If you will let me see behind yours as well,” Spock said. “Being in your mind… I have never been so fascinated. It was a gift I would appreciate repeating.”

“Deal,” Jim said, and pressed up into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'since i was young' by Wrabel and Kesha.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starknjarvis/)!


End file.
